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“You will watch your tone,” Erlik said softly, his voice carrying the promise of absolute destruction.

“And you will complete the ritual as planned. Because the alternative is watching her suffer far more than a quick death could provide. Because if you refuse me, I will make her pay for your defiance in ways that will haunt you for eternity.”

I tried to summon my power, to push back against his overwhelming presence, but it was like trying to hold back the ocean with my bare hands. The spell he’d cast on me, the binding to his will that had erased my memories of loving Ada—it was still there, still binding my soul in iron shackles.

“Seven weeks,” Erlik continued, his voice almost conversational now. “The winter solstice. When the boundaries between realms are thinnest and the ritual’s power will be at its peak. Seven weeks to prepare yourself for what must be done.”

“I can’t,” I said, and I hated how broken my voice sounded. “I won’t.”

“Oh, but you will.” Erlik’s eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction. “Because I’ll be there to ensure you don’t lose your nerve. I’ve decided to attend the ritual personally, to witness this culmination of our family’s greatest ambition.”

The final nail in the coffin. My father’s presence at the ritual would make any deviation from the plan impossible. He would sense immediately if I tried to spare Ada’s life, and would stop me before I could even attempt it.

“You sadistic puppet master,” I whispered, the words dripping with venom. “All those years of playing the devoted father while planning this orchestrated betrayal.”

“I’m many things, my son. But I’m also the demon lord who has spent centuries planning his revenge against Gün Ata.

” His smile turned predatory. “Did you think I didn’t know exactly who your precious Ada really is?

The daughter of my greatest enemy, bound to my son, destined to die by his hand. The poetry of it is…exquisite.”

The revelation swept away my last defenses.

He’d known. He’d orchestrated everything, manipulated me into binding myself to Ada specifically because of who she was.

The memory spell, the incomplete texts, the careful maneuvering to ensure I’d fall for her—all of it designed to make her death more meaningful, more painful.

“I’ll kill you,” I snarled, shadows exploding outward from my body.

My father didn’t even flinch. With a casual gesture, he crushed my power to dust, sending me to my knees on the cold stone floor. The assembled court watched in fascination while I struggled to breathe through the weight of his displeasure.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Erlik said mildly. “Because you’re still my son, still bound to me by blood and magic and the bonds I forged in your childhood. Because even with your memories returned, you cannot break free of what I made you.”

He was right, and we both knew it. The power differential between us was insurmountable. I was strong, but he was ancient, his strength built over millennia of conquest and consumption.

“Seven weeks,” he repeated. “I trust you’ll use that time to…reconcile yourself to necessity. To sever whatever pathetic attachments you may have formed.”

The dismissal was clear. I struggled to my feet, my legs unsteady, and turned to leave. Sarp fell into step beside me, his face carefully neutral, though tension filled his posture.

“Oh, and Hakan?” My father’s voice stopped me at the chamber’s entrance. “Do give my regards to your lovely bride. Tell her I’m very much looking forward to meeting her.”

The threat in those words was unmistakable. When we stepped through the shadow-gate back to my domain, I could still feel my father’s presence pressing against my mind—a reminder that no matter how far I traveled, I would never truly escape his influence.

Back in my study—or what remained of it after Ada’s destructive display I stood among the wreckage, my mind reeling from the revelation. The destroyed artifacts and scattered papers seemed fitting now, a perfect reflection of how thoroughly my world had been shattered.

“Hakan,” Sarp said carefully, “perhaps you should sit?—”

“She’s going to die.” The words came out flat, emotionless. “In seven weeks, I’m going to drain every drop of light from her being and watch her die.”

Sarp was quiet for a long moment. “There has to be another way.”

“What other way?” I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the ruined room. “You saw what happened when I tried to defy him. He crushed me with casual indifference. And he’ll be there, Sarp. He’ll be there to make sure I go through with it.”

“The forbidden archives?—”

“Won’t matter if he’s watching.” I sank into the one chair that had survived Ada’s rampage, my head in my hands.

“He played me perfectly. Forced the memory spell on me, discovered who she really was in the process, then used that knowledge to orchestrate the perfect revenge. Now I get to live with the knowledge that I’m going to be the one to kill her. ”

Through our bond, I could feel Ada’s emotions—confusion, worry, a growing sense of unease. She knew something was wrong, and could feel my distress through our connection. The irony was bitter. The very bond that would make her death possible was now forcing her to experience my anguish secondhand.

“The ritual requires willing participation,” Sarp said suddenly. “What if she refuses?”

“Then he’ll make her suffer until she agrees, or he’ll find another way.

” I looked up at my oldest friend, and saw my own desperation reflected in his eyes.

“You don’t understand. This isn’t just about power for him.

Ada is Gün Ata’s daughter. This is personal revenge, centuries in the making. He won’t let her live, no matter what.”

“Then we find a way to break the bond,” Sarp said fiercely. “We find a way to get her away from here.”

“The bond can’t be broken without killing one of us,” I reminded him. “And even if it could, where would she go? He has spies everywhere, allies in every realm. She’d never be safe.”

The futility of it all drowned me in despair. My father had planned this perfectly, accounted for every variable, every possible escape route. I was trapped as surely as Ada was, bound by blood and magic and the terrible weight of destiny.

“I have to tell her,” I said finally.

“Hakan—”

“She deserves to know.” I stood, my decision crystallizing with sudden clarity. “If I’m going to be the instrument of her death, she at least deserves to know why.”

“That’s not a conversation that can end well.”

“None of this can end well.” I moved toward the door, each step bringing me closer to my own execution. “Seven weeks, Sarp. Seven weeks to figure out if there’s any way to save her, or if I’m going to have to watch the woman I love die by my own hand.”

The words settled in the silence, a confession finally voiced, the first time I’d spoken the truth aloud. I loved her. Despite everything, despite the lies and manipulation and the terrible knowledge of what was to come, I loved Ada more than I’d ever thought possible.

And in seven weeks, I was going to kill her.

The bond between us pulsed with her growing anxiety, her desperate need to understand what was happening. She could feel my anguish, my despair, but not the reason for it. Not yet.

“Find those texts,” I told Sarp. “Find them tonight. Because if we don’t discover another path soon, I’m going to lose everything that matters.”

When I left the study, I could hear Sarp already moving, picking books from shelves, searching for any scrap of hope in the ancient writings. But even his fierce determination couldn’t quiet the voice in my head that whispered the truth:

Ada was going to die, and I was going to be the one to kill her.

The only question left was whether I’d find a way to die alongside her, or if I’d be forced to live with the knowledge of what I’d done forever.